To Feel Again
by simplyshelbs16
Summary: Post-TFP. Sherlock had imagined all sorts of ways his talk with Molly would proceed, but he wasn't prepared for what did happen.


**Author's Note: This was written for Day 13 of Writer's Month, the prompt being 'feelings.'**

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Once upon a time, nothing had frightened Sherlock Holmes more than the human downfall of having 'feelings.' He had scoffed at them for years, unaware of the past trauma he had endured as a child that caused him to act in such a way. Even his brother had always told him to never get attached, and that sentiment was a chemical defect. Now, still shaken and deeply disturbed from the past weekend, he was beginning to process all that his sister had put him through. He was given the emotional context she had promised, and it hurt like hell.

Despite his fears and anxieties over the hundreds of ways this interaction could end, Sherlock stood outside the door to Molly's flat. It had only been a couple of days, the emotional wounds still fresh in both of their minds. He'd have so much to explain to her, if she'd listen long enough. For all he knew, she'd slam the door in his face, and rightly so. Upon hearing the sound of the chain lock being moved, Sherlock took a deep breath in preparation for the storm he would be facing.

When the door opened, Molly, having been freshly showered, clad in only an old t-shirt and a fade pair of jeans, said nothing, but looked at him—no, studied him. She was making her own deductions. As he finally started to open his mouth to speak, it wasn't words that came out, but sobs of anguish. It embarrassed him greatly, causing him to panic, but Molly's arms were around him tightly, leading him into the sitting room. She sat him down gently, reminding him that the panic attack would pass. He felt as if he might black out.

"Sherlock, take deep breaths," she advised him, placing his hand over her heart so he could feel her own deep breaths. "Just like that; can you do that for me?" He was surprised by how quickly he was able to comply, his breathing finally slowing down as she continued to help ground him.

When she felt it was safe, Molly retrieved a glass of water for him. As he drank small sips, she rubbed her thumb in circles against his back, her face reflecting nothing but concern for his well-being. Whatever he was expecting, it hadn't been this. Then again, Sherlock hadn't planned on any of this happening. Tears continued to stream down his face silently as he finally spoke up. "Molly, I—God, I'm so sorry. The phone call—I swear it wasn't—I mean, I never planned—you were never supposed to get hurt." He was choked up, unable to hold back all those bloody emotions he had buried for so long.

Molly cradled his face in her hand, lowering his head ever so slightly so that they were eye to eye. "I know. Mycroft gave me the basics, but left the details for you to fill in. You don't have to tell me right now. You can wait until you're ready to face it."

"You aren't angry?" Of all the ways he imagined this in his head, not once was Molly understanding in any of them.

"I am, but not with you," she confessed. "Sherlock, I'm sorry I made you say it." This apology told him she was angry with herself.

His face fell. "Don't be; it was about time," he half-laughed. "It is imperative that you know it's true for me too. It has been for a long time."

"I know that too," she laughed. The look on his face only told her he wanted to know how she knew. "It was obvious, that day we solved crimes together, in the way that you let me go, despite the fact your heart was breaking. That was the moment I knew how you felt. God, I still regret letting it end that way."

They stared at each other for a moment, as if they were both unsure if this conversation was really happening. "What happens now?" Sherlock asked her. "Are we…together now?"

Smiling, she took his hands in hers. "What happens is that you need to have plenty of rest, and time to process things. The dam you built around your heart for so long has been utterly destroyed, and you need time to comprehend these emotions before you jump into anything." Molly gently ran her fingers through his onyx curls. "We'll work our way there. We'll take things slow until you feel you're ready for more; I'm not going anywhere."

Sherlock nodded his head with understanding. He wanted to be with her desperately, but she was right. If he jumped head-first into it now, it would be too much. "Can I at least take you out sometimes? I'd like to take you dancing."

Her cheek flushed a lovely shade of pink. "I'd love that." She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly to her body. Her lips hovered next to his ear as she whispered sweetly, "I love you, Sherlock." He couldn't help himself as he brushed his lips against hers lightly, his arms holding her, knowing that he was finally home.


End file.
